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Journal of the Withered Hand
These are the musings of Karell Mikin 10th Day Of Harvest, 627 ATA I write, I think, to defog the darker part of me that might continue to shout loud questions in my head until I spill them into form, and this must remain a private form. No good is it, if I let my thoughts build up and I end up confessing some dark or daft idea like I did to Celeste. It was not worth the burst of indiscretion it seems, for here I am still left in anticipation. If this is left unanswered I should not let it built into a hold, or a void if that is the right term. I think writing might help. So, I sit in my self inflicted puzzlement, and of late I have been traveling through Fastheld more than usual. Stupidity and immaturity, that I would spend so much effort into collecting trivialities for what? A wistful dream. Tyrell, would it have been better had it been I, and not you? You should have come to me, you stupid fool. I cannot believe that Lady Sahna would turn onto me like that, as if being threatened to a duel by a Freelander was not bad enough, to then have a Duchess turn around and belittle me like was insufferable. It was merely protecting her dark brethren, to my eye, and accusing me of being a bully was to set me on my way. As if I was attacking that girl for kicks, no. I was merely attempting to bring some sense into an unruly fool. She should be stripped of her rank. Perhaps I overreacted. 12th Day Of Harvest, 627 ATA I'd like to think I understood why Milora made such a point to force objectification, perhaps she was just angry. Still, it seems cold. Her actions must have had heavy weight behind them to pull Celeste out of the tavern in such a manner. Rude, still. It seems as though I should avoid talking to anyone aside those I am safe with at all. If I cannot converse with Freelanders without being insulted and forced to make sure they understand the slight, and I cannot justify myself to those of higher nobility without being put in my place rather dully, I am left with only those of equal standing. I don't consider many people in that list. Honestly. 18th Day Of Harvest, 627 ATA So I have partially uncovered truths behind this whole Celeste and Milora game that I am removing myself from the no mans land. I, of course, will stand by Celeste whether Milora can justify her means or not. Celeste is my kin, and now I can be happier that any deeper connections are mutual. It's refreshing, actually, to be able to say what I mean. I feel foolish and shy when I am talking with her, like I am stepping back into the boots of my 14 year old self and attempting to impress upon one of the girls at a tournament. I have been observing my withered hand while I write, safe to do so in privacy when I might take off my gloves. The shadow is a curious power, to deprive my flesh of its life but seemingly not the use, for it does feel and move much as it did before. A visual change it brings, then, and not a physical one. A symbolic change? If it could be considered a spiritual idea, my withered hand might serve as an icon of the Light's resistance. What has the darkness done to disrupt my faculty? What chance does it pose compared to the power of the human mind and the power of life and energy. Perhaps I am blessed, for instead of a death I was left with a mark. Something to remind me even in the lightest of days, what becomes of the shadow. 20th Day Of Harvest, 627 ATA I feel quite petty that I should consider another interest, especially now, it is a consideration that only adds to my muffled confusion. Guilt, I suppose, is what I really feel. Guilt that I pushed Celeste for a response even though I am still thinking like this. She talked of love, but what love does she mean by that? I did not ask her to love me or to say of it, only to accept a chance to love me. I do not think I love her, not as deeply as romantic tales tell. I am not blind and besotted, though when I am with her... This Zahir continues to (in her stride) defy my attempts at discretion. The question I'm left asking is: for what reason? My cynical side calls the distinct impression she might just be a sort of vain scarlet lady, merely some flirtatiouswhore of a noblewoman who enjoys the attentions and advances of any man. Her ideals may be more close to a Freelanders, in that respect, which would not work when coupled with my views of propriety, and I must be careful to retain my integrity even if I am the last noble doing so. The fact that she broke an engagement because of it is not appealing, either. If this is the case, in the end I will feel foolish for finding it so endearing. What is wrong with me? Sitting here wistfully like a bard with no tongue. I will read this over and regret my own thoughts and hate myself for writing out frivolous idiocy. I drivel of women constantly, as if it was some heinous problem that I was without one. Yes, I would like a lady by my side, just stop blithering. But, the Zahir is not a 'lady'. She is a woman, perhaps. Not a lady. Not as my mother would describe a lady. Then again, what mind do I have thinking I might fall for a lady when considering who else I have had feelings for? I do not fall for ladies. I do not even met that many of them. 38th Day Of Harvest, 627 ATA I have had much to write about, in truth, but I have been neglecting my diary for two reasons. One is obvious lethargy, traveling to Crowns Refuge and back has left me feeling less like moving myself around doing stuff and remembering tasks then I have felt in a long while. Secondly, the traveling itself required a light pack. I could not justify bringing this messy scrawl. There is no point. My words take on a different subject to the usual griping about, well, in some ways it is similar. Imagine coming back and finding that the Archon has banned all nobles and being blamed for it. I feel somewhat jaded, to me it seems obvious this has arose because she had a personal vendetta against us and not because of any singular action on my part. Anyone who looks at the events should be able to discern that, why should I worry about the ignorant thoughts of idle minds? I do not need this reputation, though. Neither does our house, as Varal says, though he was as presumptuous as the damned Archon. And he is kissed. Strange. Category:Chiaroscuro Character Journals